Duped
By: Lesera128
Rated: T
Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?
Summary: Dr. Temperance Brennan's father had always said she had a very good poker face. This time, it served her better than she knew. Tag to 6x02 -"The Couple in the Cave." One-shot. Complete.
The Oxford English dictionary defines the verb 'dupe' as an act where one is to be made a dupe of, to be deceived, deluded, or tricked. Sitting there in that space at the bar, the same bar where I'd spent so many happy hours that I'd almost come to feel as if it was a type of safe haven, I certainly felt duped.
How could I have been this stupid?
I'm an intelligent woman in my 30s. My IQ is among the highest percentile in the nation in which I live, and I don't think I'd be exaggerating if I said I'm probably smarter than the majority of people with whom I come into contact. I love my job. I have a very small, if high quality, social circle of intimates. I find my abode fairly comfortable and well decorated. I'm extremely proficient at just about any task which I undertake. I'm worldly and have broadened my horizons on a daily basis since I was 15. I've well-traveled and well-read. I've done things that most people say they are always going to attempt to do, but never actually do. I have a great amount of life experience from a diverse set of undertakings and happenings. And, I like to think that my pleasing aesthetic features result in my being considered quite beautiful by the physical standards of the society in which I live. Above all else, I consider my most valuable trait to be persistence. I always get to where I need to go. Always. Sometimes it takes me a little longer than I may've originally thought. Sometimes it hurts me a little more than I anticipated for one reason or another. But, I always, always, always get to where I need to go.
That having been said, the same question has been ringing in my head all night.
How could I have been this stupid?
I thought I could do it, you know? For him? After all, he's an exception to just about every other rule in my life. I thought I could deal with it. Deal with her.
He's in love with Hannah.
After just a few months, he's in love with Hannah.
A war correspondent….a blonde journalist with a penchant for getting into trouble.
Whom he met in warzone…because she needed saving.
Whom he loves now…instead of me.
With whom he's moved on, just like he said he would.
I don't blame him for that. A few months ago…was it really almost a year? Whatever it was, he was ready, and he pulled the metaphorical trigger and tried to get what he thought he wanted at the time, i.e., me. But, I wasn't ready. I was caught off guard. I was, to use a single word, shocked. And, so I did what I've always done when I've found myself in a situation where I feel bewildered, caught off guard, and teetering on the edge of oblivion. I tried to take control of the situation the only way I knew how―I attempted to remove myself from the situation. I wasn't really thinking about anything beyond that point. Remove myself from the chaos, retreat, regroup, reassess, and then address the issues that had been broached in the safety of a controlled, logical, and rational environment.
Except that Booth wasn't willing to let me have the time to do that. He said he couldn't wait. He needed to move on. I suppose I didn't help things when I intimated that I highly doubted that a logical analysis of the situation would in any way result in me being able to accept his offer to "give us a chance." The truth is, I hadn't really thought about it very much until that very minute.
I mean me, Temperance Brennan, in a long-term romantic monogamous relationship?
It turns out I was just as wrong about that initial assessment as I was about being able to deal with Booth's relationship with Hannah.
How could I have been this stupid?
I should've known better. I should've known just as soon as we met in our special place on the Mall, right by the coffee cart, and he started talking about another woman that I couldn't do it. I'm just not that strong. I should've run away as fast as my booted feet could've carried me. After all, running away is one thing that I'm very good at, right?
So, why didn't I? Why didn't I run as far and as fast as my feet could've carried me, back to the refuge offered by my work in Maluku, as soon as he uttered the words it was "as serious as a heart attack."
Why? Well, the answer is easy. It's because I'm incredibly stupid…and I was duped.
I know that now. Sitting here in the Founding Fathers…sipping a glass of bourbon, neat. Booth and Hannah had a dinner date, so he couldn't stay to finish our after case celebratory libation. I must admit, it was rather kind of him to make the offer to let me accompany them, but at least I was smart enough to reject that offer. At least I wasn't that stupid.
So, that's why I'm here now, sitting alone, in our bar with just my drink to keep me company.
It hurts. It really, really hurts. More than I possible could've imagined. And, I feel so embarrassed…so stupid…so duped.
Reaching for my glass, I pick it up from where it had sat on the bar since Booth and Hannah's departure, and I stare into the bottom of the glass for a long moment. Maybe…maybe that's it? Maybe…just for a little bit, maybe I won't feel so stupid if I numb the pain somehow?
My decision made, I quickly throw back my head and gulp the remaining contents of my glass down my throat. I hold my breath so I don't cough on the strong vapors of the richly full flavored Kentucky mash bourbon as it slides down my throat and burns a trail straight to my stomach. Once the glass was empty, and my face twisted into a grimace as I take a deep breath, I gently set the glass back on the bar. Catching the bartender's eye, I single with my right hand for a refill.
Maybe Booth was right after all…maybe Clark can finish the cataloging of the forensic evidence for this case. Because, suddenly, right now…I've very tired of feeling so stupid…so duped.
All I want to do is feel something else…anything else.
When the bartender comes back with my refill, I hastily grab it and down it greedily, latching on to the painful sensation the bourbon makes when it hits the back of my throat. Swallowing, I'm mildly content as, after a time, the world start to soften and blur and I forget, if just for a little bit, how very stupid and how very duped I felt.
How could I have been this stupid?
The thought echoes in my head. And, eventually…after three or four more drinks…an answer finally comes into focus.
How could I have been this stupid?
Easy, a slightly slurred internal voice finally answered my question. How could you have been that stupid? It was because you were in love, Tempe.
I was in love.
It hurt because I was in love.
I was that stupid because I was in love….well, damn. That's good to know now...but that still didn't make it hurt any less.
~The End~